


A Moment Too Long

by dicks



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-21
Updated: 2016-06-21
Packaged: 2018-07-16 11:25:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7266193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dicks/pseuds/dicks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Every time it was Watanuki who turned away first, breaking their gaze.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

  
_I dreamed I was a butterfly, flitting around in the sky; then I awoke. Now I wonder: Am I a man who dreamt of being a butterfly, or am I a butterfly dreaming that I am a man? – Zhuangzi_

 

-  
  
The first day it was barely conspicuous. When Watanuki didn’t show up at school, Doumeki shut out his worries. Yuuko had sent them out on a mission the night before, by the time they returned to the store it was pretty late. Watanuki was probably exhausted and knowing Yuuko, she would most likely pester him into serving her booze and snacks no matter how late it was.  
  
The day went on as usual, normal, as in his _pre-Watanuki_ days. He was sitting in his class unconsciously plugging his right ear when a classmate approached him, then afterwards as he climbed the staircase he was busy thinking about _not_ thinking about Watanuki. Later, he broke an arrow during his archery practice; he pocketed it almost mechanically, then he spent fifteen minutes trying to pretend he was paying attention to his coach when that man briefed him about their next archery competition and another half an hour staring at the sky. The sky was blue, but a different shade of blue. Not the kind of blue he would have liked.  
  
He spent another ten minutes wondering _which_ shade of blue he actually liked.  
  
The second day, Doumeki began speculating. It was rare for Watanuki to cut school for no real reason for one day, let alone two. Doumeki ended up eating korokke from the school cafeteria with Kunogi. Truth be told, sometimes he did wonder what Watanuki saw in her. Without doubt she was beautiful but all she did was giggle and smile and talk about small and meaningless things. Doumeki liked her as a person, but he found Watanuki’s attraction towards her incomprehensible. Perhaps it was _Watanuki’s attraction_ towards the girl that made him like the girl a little less. No, Doumeki wasn’t jealous, and the earth wasn’t really round, either.  
  
He could barely finish his lunch that day because once one tasted Watanuki’s cooking, everything else tasted bland in comparison.  
  
“You prefer Watanuki’s-kun cooking a lot more, right Doumeki-kun?” Kunogi smiled shrewdly. She also had an irritating way of being right.  
  
Doumeki loved food. Only when it was Watanuki’s food. He loved the unique taste of Watanuki that lingered in the food; he could taste every quirk of the boy’s nature and every bite he took felt like home.  
  
He often wondered how Watanuki’s taste would be like, as a whole.  
  
By the third day, however, Doumeki was convinced that hitsuzen was cracking some kind of joke on him. Did something happen? Something inevitable that only Yuuko would know? But surely she would tell him if something terrible had happened. No matter how much the seer protested, Yuuko would still go to him unless if it required something that was beyond his capacity. He was going insane with worries and doubts. And he really missed the bento too.  
  
As a result, he found himself walking towards Yuuko’s shop after school that afternoon.  
  
When he arrived there, Yuuko was already standing in front of the store, leaning on the edge of the fence, holding some kind of purple flower. She gazed at him and smiled mischievously as if she held every dark secret in the universe. He stopped five feet in front of her and glanced briefly towards the empty lot behind her, hoping that he wouldn’t have the _need_ to see the store again in the future. The air smelled distinctively of the sweet fruity stuff she smoked.  
  
She smirked knowingly and he grunted in response.  
  
“He’s not here. He hasn’t been here for the past few days.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Nothing happened. At least not yet.” She sighed dramatically, “That boy really needs to change and move towards the future he chose.”  She tilted her head to the sky and mumbled to herself, “..but all he did was backpedal.”  
  
Yuuko spoke in riddles, words underneath words and Doumeki wasn’t in the mood to decipher it, he shrugged in reply.  
  
“He’s probably at home sulking, Doumeki.  Do you know where he lives?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Well, I can’t help you with that. I can’t leave the store at the moment. But if you see him, tell him I need him to come back.”  
  
 _Yuuko’s worried_ , he mused as he walked away; _in her own peculiar way_.  
  
-  
  
 _“Doumeki, did you see that?”  
  
“What…?”  
  
“Never mind.”  
_  
-  
  
The last place he expected to find that boy was at the temple. Not that he noticed it first, as it was after dinner when he was sitting quietly in his room, trying to tackle his geometry homework and while trying very, very hard not to think about a certain idiot.  
  
The clock shrilled noisily in the hall. Doumeki drew in a deep breath then rubbed his eyes. His vision, after giving Watanuki half of the sight of his right eye, tended to be fuzzy and occasionally gave him headaches. Tonight, his head was throbbing because he still wasn’t used to the imbalance in his vision. He contemplated changing the light bulb in the room; maybe it was too bright. But his headache could also be caused by the refrigerator humming too loudly. And the rain wasn’t helping. God, the rain made him sleepy. Maybe, he mused, may be. There were so many possibilities. He knew he was making excuses. He was having trouble focusing on his homework.  
  
He stared at the book as if by staring at it the answers would magically appear. They didn’t. Well, at least he tried.  
  
Then, he heard it.  
  
There was movement outside and—  
  
 _Bwusshh…_  
  
And a— _thump!_  
  
 _Crap!_  
  
That was definitely not an animal because animals did not curse like that and Doumeki was pretty sure it wasn’t a burglar. No burglar was stupid enough to make that kind of noise.  
  
Unless…  
  
He stood hastily, knocking his books across the room and hurried out towards the sound.  
  
-  
  
Watanuki was sprawled on the temple ground right under the sakura tree. The ground was still damp from the rain earlier. Although it was still drizzling, the sky had brightly cleared. Watanuki got up, cringing slightly, and started rubbing the dirt off his clothes, his long limbs moving awkwardly. His wet hair stuck out wildly.  
  
Doumeki was struck by how he looked so vulnerable, like a broken rag doll Doumeki had stashed on top of the shelves in his cupboard when he was nine.  
  
Watanuki seemed to be at once out of place while at the same time looking as if he actually belonged there; more than Doumeki did.  
  
“Oi! What are you doing here?”  
  
“Um. Nothing. It does not concern you so go back inside.” Watanuki glared at the other and huffily crossed his arms.  
  
“It does concern me because I _do_ live here, you know.”  
  
“Well… you don’t have to say it like that you- you pompous jerk!” He spouted, his face changed rapidly to bright red, “I just need to get out of the house and well… this is the only place I can think of without the spirit trying to…. AHhh NEVERMIND! I don’t need to tell you anything. I’ll leave!”  
  
Doumeki wanted to asked, _What about Yuuko’s?_ But instead he said, “Oi. Should you be wandering outside at this hour?”  
  
“Stop calling me that! I have a name, you big lout!”  
  
“It’s drizzling. Come inside or you’ll get sick tomorrow.”  
  
“No, I can’t. It’s the middle of the night and I don’t want to—“  
  
“At least sit on the porch, idiot.”  
  
“Who you calling idiot??”   
  
The rain splattered to the ground softly. The wind blew, messing up his already messy hair.  
  
At least Watanuki did not refuse.  
  
-  
  
Somehow, they both ended up sitting quietly on the porch, sipping their tea. Which is absurd because Watanuki sitting quietly while sipping tea _with_ Doumeki was really uncanny. Bizarre in fact. Something was horribly wrong with this picture.  
  
He used to sit with his grandfather at this same spot for hours just drinking tea when the man was still alive. Haruka used to tell him tales, which he remembered  by heart, sometimes they would just sit in silence enjoying the sound of rippling water flowing into the pond from a bamboo spout or the faint sound of the bells. It was peaceful and one of his favorite memories of his grandfather.  
  
The floor creaked silently as Watanuki moved to put down his cup. The slight tremble of his hand caught Doumeki’s eyes. His gaze traveled slowly from the pale long fingers which the other boy was clenching and unclenching, trembling slightly from the gesture-- to the long thin arms, then his gaze settled on Watanuki’s pallid face.  
  
Watanuki had removed his glasses earlier and there was something in his eyes that made him look like he was about to break, or cry or something.  
  
Doumeki’s eyes never left the boy. He watched, transfixed with the way Watanuki moved. He calculated every motion, every breath and wondered briefly if he was going crazy. This was not obsession, this was simply insanity.  
  
Deliberate. Every shift and movement was deliberate. Restrained. His frail, frail hands shook slightly.  
  
Watanuki looked, sort of, like he was about to cry.  
  
For a moment, Doumeki allowed his heart to be broken. Then he closed his eyes briefly, blocking out the sight of the broken boy, wanting and not wanting at the same time to be in the part of this demented reality of Watanuki’s life. There were so many questions left unanswered. Watanuki wouldn’t tell him if he asked, he knew that much. He wouldn’t even dream of asking Yuuko because with Yuuko, everything came with a price. And sometimes the prices were too high.  
  
As he took a sip of his tea, he felt Watanuki’s eyes fixed on him, scrutinizing him from the corner of his eyes.  
  
“Are you checking me out?”  
  
“Are you a retard?” the seer countered, blinking madly.  
  
Watanuki’s response was so comical; Doumeki had to choke in his urge to snort.  “Not really. Are you?”  
  
“The hell I am!! But I’m pretty sure you are! WHY THE HELL WOULD I WANT TO CHECK YOU OUT ANYWAY?”  
  
“Shut up. You’ll wake the neighbors.”  
  
“What neighbors? You nearest neighbors are miles away!”  
  
“Exactly.”  
  
“You— ah... I--" he sighed heavily and slumped his shoulders, as if he just officially resigned from the word-banter game they often played, “Doumeki, I’m just…tired.”  
  
-  
  
 _Sometimes he felt like a rodent. Him and Watanuki both. They were put in a cage, running around in circles, chasing and being chased._  
  
-  
  
There was a pause and then, “All I want is not to be able to see spirits, anymore. I want to be able to walk in the middle of the street without spirits trailing behind me.”  
  
Doumeki said nothing. He doubted that Watanuki expected him to, either.  
  
Watanuki yearned for a life without nasty spirits hunting him, Doumeki yearned for—what _did_ he want, he pondered.  
  
He wanted a little part of Watanuki’s loneliness.  
  
And he wanted to be here, there, anywhere Watanuki needed him. He wanted to be in that place. Wherever in hell it was.  
  
He had long ago come to terms with his feelings towards the other boy. By the time he had grasped how deeply he was involved, he was already half in love with the boy. There were such feelings of yearning and inexplicable longing he felt inside, it was so unfamiliar to him, and yet it was expected, as if the choice had been made even before his birth.  
  
Love was a color of red and a combination of devotion, infatuation, and a self-sacrificing wound. Doumeki would die in order to protect him. Was this what they called romantic? He wouldn’t be giving the other boy flowers anytime soon and he bet the boy wouldn’t be jumping up and down with joy if he did. What then? Destiny? Blame it on fate? Because if it was, this would probably be the biggest flop in the history of hitsuzen. Ever.  
  
“Is this real?” The seer asked suddenly. His words echoed through the darkness.  
  
For some reason, the blackness of the night was darker than the black itself.  
  
“What?”  
  
“Everything. Now. You sitting here sipping tea with me, is this real?” he asked again.  
  
“Yes.”  
  
“How do you know for sure?”  
  
“I don’t. But I would’ve known if I was dreaming.”  
  
“You suck at comforting, you know?” Watanuki sighed and rubbed at his eyes hard enough it looked like it might’ve been painful.  “I want this to be real. I want to be here.”  
  
“What’s stopping you, then?”  
  
“Nothing. Well, everything…”  
  
Doumeki raised an eyebrow.  “Everything?”  
  
-  
  
 _The smell of incense often lulled him to sleep. When he was small, he often found himself sleeping on the floor by his grandfather’s feet. From his grandfather’s prayers to the smell of the burning incense; sometimes he wondered if he was still dreaming._  
  
-  
  
“I can’t remember, Doumeki. My parents’ name, my childhood, people that I met, it’s as if I’m not real. When I realized I had no memories of my past, I asked Yuuko about it and now I’m paying the price for the information,” He said almost bitterly, “She told me my true purpose of existence is uncertain. My existence was unplanned, I’m just a replacement of someone from the other world. A substitute.” He shrugged almost carelessly, “I feel like I should not be here. Like I don’t belong.”  
  
It took Doumeki some time to register Watanuki’s words and when he finally did, Watanuki looked so forlorn that Doumeki almost—almost stretched out his hand to comfort the boy; except, if he did, he wouldn’t be able to stop and he knew he would do something inopportune and stupid.  
  
It was so remarkably cliché; it wasn’t even funny, anymore.  
  
“You are real to me.” He murmured softly, not really caring how brittle he sounded.  
  
The boy snapped his head up and turned abruptly towards him and for a while they both stared at each other before Watanuki turned away. Every time it was Watanuki who turned away first, breaking their gaze.  “I—I don’t know anymore.”  
  
“You’re here. You won’t simply dissolve in the air if _I touch you_. You _are_ real.”  
  
“No, you don’t understand.” Watanuki shook his head. “I didn’t understand, either. Well, not at first but... it has to be true because sometimes I would dream and when I woke up I was in another dream. One dream after another, you know? I wonder if those people I met were even real. Or what if I’m just part of other people’s dreams? Am I real, then? I have nobody to prove my existence to. It wouldn’t be a great loss if I just—“  
  
He paused, he took a long deep-breath, cleared his throat and when he said the next words, his voice was as clear as the sky, “I’m neither here nor there. I’m not needed.”  
  
-  
  
 _Doumeki wasn’t a pessimist. But there were times that he had to suppress the urge to simply give up. Or scream. Or yell at the top of his lungs._  
  
-  
  
Sometimes, it hurt just watching the seer.  
  
Nobody had the right to question another person, even their own existence. God had created each one of them for a reason, and for that reason only, was enough of an explanation for him.  
  
Doumeki was angry for some other reason.  
  
He longed for a ride on a Ferris wheel, blue cotton candy, even the haunted house with the fake ghosts made of cardboard.  
  
“You were wrong. You are needed here.”  
  
“W-what?”  
  
“I need you here.” he paused, a moment to long, “...and Kunogi. Yuuko, too. Someone has to make sure she has enough booze.”  
  
Doumeki held his gaze. For a moment there was only silence. He didn’t move, he didn’t even breathe, barely. He was afraid to; Watanuki was just like a feral animal. Any movement would have driven the boy away. And for some messed up reason, it was important for him to be there. Just like this.  
  
Then, unexpectedly, all of a sudden, Watanuki just—smiled. The kind of smile he gave to Kohane or Kunogi sometimes, even Yuuko when she wasn’t asking for liquor. The kind of smile that had never been directed at Doumeki, before.  
  
Doumeki winced internally.  
  
It was heartbreaking.  
  
Somewhere, during those small moments, something had come undone. It was almost tangible in the air. Thicker than the fog.  
  
Watanuki broke the eye contact. His gaze was vacant. The eye that sees things he shouldn’t see. It was cruel, Doumeki thought, to be able to see too much. Sometimes, there were things that should be left unknown, unseen. The world wasn’t really a pretty place.  
  
“Did you get hit on the head on the way here?” he asked, breaking the silence.  
  
Watanuki’s lips quirked upward as if he was going to smile again, then it suddenly turned into a scowl. “You are terrible, Doumeki. You demand food all the time, you’re insensitive and you’re the biggest jerk I’ve ever met and yet you... you— arrgghh!!” He yawned loudly. “I’m sleepy!”  
  
“You can stay the night, if you want.” Doumeki’s voice trembled quietly.  
  
“You just want me to cook breakfast for you, don’t you?” he asked dryly.  
  
“I like tamagoyaki.”  
  
“I KNEW IT!! You insufferable bottomless pit! No way I’m cooking breakfast for you! I’m going home.”  
  
“I’ll walk you home, then.”  Doumeki stood up.  
  
“Don’t treat me like some girl!! I can go back on my own, you cretin.”   
  
“Either you stay here or I’ll walk you home. Pick one, idiot.”  
  
“Gahhhhhhhhh… fine fine. Walk me home then... but DON’T YOU DARE THINK I’M GOING TO PUT EXTRA INARIZUSHI IN YOUR BENTO TOMORROW!”  
  
He said nothing. He let the boy get three steps ahead of him before he trailed along behind, stepping precisely within Watanuki’s footprints.  
  
Two houses away, a dog barked twice.  
  
-


	2. Chapter 2

  
_And like a baby boy I never was a man – Hate Me, Blue October_  
  
Doumeki did not expect Watanuki to miss school the next day.  
  
“So where is Watanuki-kun?” Kunogi suddenly appeared in front of him near the school gate.  
  
He was grumpy—he even considered ignoring her—but then he glimpsed the girl’s distressed looks, as if she were lost.   
  
“I’m not sure,” he answered noncommittally.  
  
“I hope he’s not sick. Watanuki-kun always looks so pale and thin.”  
  
That was _the_ understatement of the year.  
  
“I'm going to his house to check on him later after school.” He didn’t mention to Kunogi about seeing the other boy the night before; he couldn’t understand the reason himself. But at least he knew where the seer lived.  
  
“Oh, Doumeki-kun, you’re such a good friend. When you see him please send my regards to him, will you?” Her step bounced on the ground. She was happy living in her make-believe world in which Watanuki and him were such close buddies, sharing dreams and trading secrets between classes.  
   
He snorted inwardly and thought, _Such a good friend indeed._ Fate was laughing at the irony.  
  
He seriously couldn’t tolerate another day with cafeteria food.  
  
-  
  
“What the hell are you doing here?” Watanuki sounded distracted but not at all surprised as he opened the door. He looked like he’d been tossing and rolling on the bed the whole night without sleep, and the bags under his eyes were the worst Doumeki ever seen on the seer.  
  
“I’m hungry,” he replied, half lying because he would say anything just to get to see the other boy. It was beyond pathetic.  
  
Watanuki gripped the doorframe tightly, “What the—you think my house is a goddamn restaurant?”  
  
“It’s been a while since I ate your cooking,” Doumeki said lamely.  
  
“I’m not sorry. Serves you right if you die from starvation.”   
  
“I see,” he nodded slowly, “In that case, make me something for dinner.”  
  
“In that case—?? How can you even form the sentence like that!!” he lashed out, “…and don’t treat me like your freaking wife damnit. I‘m not—”  
  
“Oi,” he interrupted.  
  
“What?” he shot Doumeki a callous glare.   
  
“Why you didn’t come to school today?”  
  
Watanuki’s face changed briskly to crimson; he stuttered, “I’m uh—not feeling well,” then abruptly turned away, probably heading towards the kitchen. He left the door wide open, and Doumeki took it as a silent invitation.  
  
As he stepped in the room, he was engulfed by the ripple of warm air. The apartment was spotlessly clean, but small and stuffy with one room with a moderate kitchen and a bathroom. The main room was almost bare except for an old two-seater couch and a small coffee table. At the end of the hall, there was another small table, some sort of small shrine, a worn-off rubber ball, faded with time to a hideous yellow, and an old set of sake cups.  
  
It was the only thing in the house that was covered by dust.  
  
For someone who was laboring not to see spirits, Watanuki seemed to be living with his own personal ghost.   
  
He followed Watanuki to the kitchen.  
  
There was a table with only two chairs in the middle of the kitchen. Doumeki took a seat which was facing the sink. Watanuki was standing in front the window near that sink, and with his frame blocking the sunlight, he looked almost surreal outlined by the light.   
  
“Here,” he put a big bowl of oyakodon in front of him. “It’s the leftover from my lunch earlier. I am not going to cook something else just for you.”  
  
Doumeki grabbed the chopstick and gingerly put the food in his mouth—it had been a while. “Are you going to Yuuko’s later?”  
  
Watanuki placed a cup of hot tea next to the bowl on the table, “No. Not today.”   
  
He munched the food thoughtfully. ”Whoyysh?”  
  
Watanuki closed his eyes and took a deep breath, ’I’m not ready yet… I guess she’d probably put this in my tab too,” he muttered to himself, then his eyes flickered with annoyance to Doumeki. “Hey! Don’t talk with your mouth full. That was disgusting.”  
  
Doumeki ignored the comment and keep munching. “So why weren’t you at school?”  
  
“I told you I wasn’t feeling well!” Watanuki was turning red again.  
  
He arched an eyebrow. “You don’t look sick enough to cut school.”  
  
“What do you know?” Watanuki muttered, looking at his feet.  
  
Doumeki sighed inaudibly; he suddenly found himself losing his appetite. They had been playing this game far too long. He knew it was partly his fault for being too lenient with the other boy and he hated the way Watanuki made him feel. He was desperate for the seer to accept him, to open up to him or at least acknowledge him as a friend but the boy keep pushing him away, leaving a huge gap between them. Doumeki was frustrated, he was irritated, and he was extremely tired with the whole situation.  
  
He set down his chopstick carefully on the bowl, then took a sip of the tea before asking, “What are you hiding from?”  
  
Watanuki’s eyes widened. “What?”  
  
“What are you hiding from?” he asked again.  
  
“What is this? We’re playing twenty questions already?” Watanuki growled with frustration, hands waving madly on the air.  
  
“Answer my question.”  
  
“Don’t order me around. I don’t take orders from you, jerk.”  
  
Doumeki had enough and stood up slowly from the chair, turning to face the seer. “Are you avoiding me?”  
  
“Whaa..? No. I don’t!” But the other boy was avoiding Doumeki’s eyes, fingers unconsciously tugging on the table cloth.  
  
 _Watanuki lies,_ Doumeki realized, _like he means every word of it.  
_  
“Oi.”  
  
“How many times did I tell you not to call me that!” Watanuki snarled and stomped out from the kitchen, swearing under his breath.  
  
Doumeki followed him stubbornly towards his bedroom—it was smaller than he imagined. There was only a small closet and a futon which folded into half at the corner of the room. Innocent white sheets peeked shyly between the fold.   
  
“Oi.”  
  
“Don’t follow me! This is my room. At least give me some privacy damnit.”  
  
“No. Tell me first. Why you avoiding me?” he asked, unshakeable.  
  
“I’m not avoiding anyone! It’s not even about you. Don’t flatter yourself, you ungrateful twit.”  
  
He grabbed the other boy’s arm and tugged roughly. Watanuki staggered with the force.  
  
“Let me go, damnit,” his voice quivered.  
  
“Oi. Answer me idiot,” Doumeki demanded in tight voice.  
  
Watanuki whirled around and spat, “Don’t you ‘Oi’ me in that tone and with that—that expressionless face! I have a name and stop—,” he yanked his hand out of Doumeki’s grip and took a step backwards, towards the futon. “Stop acting like you know me. Do you have any idea what is in my head? Do you? Do you? And don’t treat me like an idiot because I’m not! I’m so tired trying to rationalize this, not with you poking around my business!”  
  
“Rationalize what?” he prodded, taking a step closer to the boy.  
  
“All this!’ he recklessly waving his hands on the air, “Everything!! All I did was make a wish! A wish! Between dreams, Yuuko’s shop, school, I no longer know which is real!! For all I know even this is a dream! And you—what do you want anyway? I still can’t figure out your role in my life...” He jabbed his index finger furiously onto Doumeki’s chest, “You came around uninvited then saved me every time like some stupid hero, and I don’t know what to do about it! This is my non-existence life story, goddamnit! Don’t interfere! So stop marching around in my life, stomping in with your big feet, like you own it!”  
  
It was… funny, almost. Doumeki had been wondering the same thing—had he been writing his own story in the other boy’s life? Was he acting the part of a protagonist the whole time?  
  
He said nothing and they glared at each other in silence for a long moment.  
  
“I don’t need a hero,” Watanuki said calmly, still hoarse from his outburst.   
  
“So what do you need then?” he asked but not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer.  
  
“I need a—a reason.”  
  
Something in Doumeki snapped. “Idiot. I’ll give you a reason.”  
  
-  
 _He never claimed to be a saint. Sometimes, even Doumeki couldn’t draw the line between the right and the wrong._  
-  
  
It happened just like it happened in movies, in slow motion with blurry effects and perfect lighting—only now the background music was the hum of the radiator.   
  
Doumeki dived in, pushing the boy onto the half folded futon to trap him in between. Doumeki’s head throbbed from the swift movement, heart pounding, and all he knew that was that he saw red—he looked down and Watanuki’s eyes widened, pupils dilated, a little disoriented. Watanuki squirmed frantically underneath Doumeki’s weight, but he didn’t turn away this time, not once; their gazes locked, reading each other’s expression, and mirrored the other’s movements.  
  
“I’ll give you a reason,” he huskily repeated and pressed his body lower.  
  
"Doumeki, what—"  
  
One hand cradling Watanuki’s neck, the other squeezing his shoulder tightly, he was half afraid Watanuki would’ve run away—though he doubted that, with the way Watanuki’s fingers curved securely around his arm. Doumeki closed the distance between them, nudged the seer’s jaw with his nose, turned slightly so their lips would align symmetrically. Eyes fluttered shut, and he closed the gap slowly, bumping their lips, tasting and savoring the boy clumsily.  
  
Watanuki tasted ridiculously like his food, sweet and spicy—delicious.   
  
He could feel his own body shaking. The smell, the taste, the hands on his hair, stroking and massaging; it was too much, he might have even been dreaming right then. He had been fantasizing about this moment over and over in his head for the past few months and he’d be damned if he stopped, now that he was given opportunity to touch and touch and touch—no, he definitely wouldn’t stop.  
  
As he kissed the boy, as he nipped Watanuki’s bottom lip with his teeth, as he breathed hard through his nose, lust made him dizzy. As he ran out of oxygen, as he wouldn’t stop, and as he kept taking and taking when he sucked the boy’s tongue into his mouth, gluttony had him still wanting for more. And as he pressed his body over Watanuki’s, as he ground his hips, slightly unaware of his own erection and as he pushed and thrust hard through the thick pants, friction was heaven and greed was, oh—  
  
Three deadly sins out of seven.  
  
Not bad for a temple boy.  
  
“Doumeki... Doumeki…” Watanuki latched onto his name like some sort of prayer.  
  
And this, this was his wish, Doumeki realized briefly as he flicked his tongue in the boy’s mouth, and he had it in the palms of his hands.  
His hand gradually wandered from Watanuki’s neck to his shoulders, fingertips alighting like butterflies against his skin, a touch that was barely a touch; he lifted Watanuki’s shirt, his hand snuck inside to find more hot skin, new places to explore, stroking with his thumbs against the exposed pale flesh. A slight pressure was all it took to earn a long, deep moan and, god, the sound was as addicting as the tastes.   
  
His fingers brushed a nipple and the seer tightened his grip around Doumeki’s upper arm, nails biting the skin, hurting him somewhat. Doumeki’s hand traveled slowly downwards, stopping to lightly stroke the inside of Watanuki’s thigh.  
  
Somehow, sometime, Watanuki took control over the kisses, locked his mouth onto Doumeki’s as if he would never let go, nibbling his lower lip, sucking all the oxygen out of him. Doumeki gasped, breathless, and his voice caught in his throat as he choked—  
  
“Kimihiro—”   
  
-  
  
 _Kimihiro— the name wasn’t foreign on his lips; his tongue rolled smoothly at each syllable. He had been chanting this name over and over when he was alone, in the dark, half sleeping and bathed with sweat._  
  
-  
  
Evidently, it was a mistake.  
  
It was only one of the foolish mistakes he made that night.  
  
At the sound of his name, Watanuki halted abruptly as if he was being stopped by an invisible force. He blinked a few times before scrambling out of Doumeki’s grip, clawing at the futon, roughly pushing Doumeki off.  
  
“What the hell are you doing? This is—this—GET OUT!! GET THE HELL OUT BASTARD!!”  
  
Time stood still. Nobody moved. Watanuki’s harsh breathing was the only sound in the room.  
  
They stared at each other, a moment too long before Doumeki slowly rose from the floor. The other boy’s penetrating gaze peeled off his skin, layer by layer until he felt completely raw and naked. Ashamed.   
  
Doumeki remained silent as he walked unsteadily out from the room. There were no words. He didn’t even slam the door.  
  
Love was for fools and Doumeki was the biggest fool alive.  
  
-  
  
The white color of the sheets was no longer pure white. It was tainted with Doumeki’s hunger.  
  
-


	3. Chapter 3

  
_Can you pretend I'm amazing? – Amazing, Blue October_

  
  
The futon was cold and lumpy and it had been there since he was twelve. He dropped his body down, kneeling on the futon. Not really sitting comfortably but that was okay, he could live with that. He stretched both of his hands on the futon, spreading his fingers wide—smooth on the surface. He didn’t know what he was doing or the purpose of that but he was trying to organize his thoughts; he needed something to do, he had this unfathomable knot in his stomach, somewhere just above the pancreas—was that where the heart was actually located?  
  
His face portrayed nothing, for he was the master of stoicism; he even deserved an award for that. But his body shook a little, just a slight tremble and tiny goosebumps, maybe from the cold. Maybe from something else but it was unsettling, like something heavy dragging him down, down and lower down.  
  
He groaned loudly, then rose from the futon, he walked three steps towards the door, paused briefly, then changed his mind and he went back to his futon; this time he lay down. He didn’t sleep though, he didn’t close his eyes. His right eye was throbbing painfully like something hammering at the back of his skull; back and forth in constant movement like the pendulum swings. It reminded him of his grandfather’s grandfather clock—how ironic was that? The pendulum would swing back and forth for every second, meaning every hour it would swing for 3600 times and 86400 times for exactly twenty-four hours—constant movement like the one at the back of his head. The clock was broken a few years ago though, now stashed at the back of the temple like all damaged, discarded things; waiting to be disposed of.    
  
His face was numb, his eyes watery and the tip of his nose was frozen. He touched his nose— was it possible to get frostbite on the nose? He wondered how he would look like without his nose. Not a pretty sight but Doumeki was anything but pretty. He hadn’t felt pretty for a long time; not since the time his grandfather dressed him in a kimono when he was small. No, Doumeki wasn’t pretty at all.    
  
_Think about oranges_ , he told himself. _Think of oranges. Round. Oranges. Sweet and sour.  
_  
He liked oranges when they weren’t too sour, he liked them ripe and sweet. Sweet. Just like Watanuki.    
  
Oh.    
  
_Think of oranges. Elephant in the kitchen. Grandfather in kimono. Oranges and elephant. Oranges in kimono._ Anything but that boy.    
  
By the time he slept, he dreamt of nothing.   
  
-  
  
He awoke several hours later, tangled in his sheets; he has surprised he even slept at all. It was early, too early to get up, got plenty of time, he realized with dismay. He hated having nothing to do with too much time on his hands. He forced himself to continue sleeping.    
  
The second time he woke up, it was pretty late. He was slightly annoyed, he rushed to the toilet, took a quick shower-- he wasn’t filthy, a few scrubbings on the body was enough. Then he brushed his teeth; too hard and too fast, to the point that he was spitting blood. After that he went back to his room, grabbed the same uniform he was wearing yesterday, and put it on as quickly as he could. He didn’t even comb his hair as he walked out from the temple.   
  
He didn’t stumble onto anyone or _anyone_ particular on the way to the school. Life was great.    
  
At school, he walked slowly, taking his time going to class; his eyes strayed in the school hall. He didn’t see _anyone_ important. By the time he stepped into his classroom, he was dreadfully tired. Boneless, he dropped himself on the chair, slumped forward, buried his head in his hands, and closed his eyes.    
  
His chest felt tight. Something in his heart broke.    
  
-    
  
It was like yesterday all over again but this time Watanuki opened the door before he could even knock.    
  
Doumeki hesitated a second, “I’m sor—“    
  
“Stop. Just go to the kitchen.”    
  
-  
  
Watanuki was dancing in the kitchen. His hand grazing the pan before he took it off the hook, he gracefully placed it on the burner. Doumeki watched him as he cracked the eggs perfectly in the center, and then poured out the contents in a bowl without spilling any. His fingers moved with fluidity as he beat the mixture of the eggs, sugar, and few other ingredients Doumeki couldn’t name. His other hand was reaching for something in a container, probably some rice wine? No, it was dashi soup. Watanuki was making tamagoyaki for him and it was one of his favorite foods.    
  
He watched in fascination as the other boy oiled the pan carefully, before cooking the first layer.    
  
Doumeki watched. That was the thing; he was constantly watching Watanuki. And the boy was unusually quiet, it was unsettling.    
  
“Can you stop staring?”     
  
“I want to learn how to cook.”   
  
“You wouldn’t know how to cook just by staring, idiot.”    
  
“So you’ll teach me?” he asked hopefully. He wanted to dance like Watanuki in the kitchen. Maybe one day he would be able to cook something nice for the boy.    
  
“I’m not offering you anything, you jerk.” He said as he spread the mixture on the pan, “I’m still mad at you.”    
  
“Oh.”   
  
“Is that all you're going to say you brainless idiot? Oh?”     
  
Doumeki said nothing. He didn’t know what to say. Watanuki was acting completely the opposite of what he had predicted; he expected the boy would kick him or lash out at him. At least he would know how to react that way, but Watanuki was cooking for him and he felt confused, and a little disoriented. He remained silent as he continued watching Watanuki.    
  
“Here, I made onigiri this morning. This is leftovers.”     
  
“Torisoboro?”    
  
“No. Irijako. Just eat. You have no right to be picky,” Watanuki snapped, setting the plate down in front of him.    
  
He stared at the plate, contemplating if it would be safe to touch it, wondering why Watanuki was being so nice to him.    
  
“Here’s your tamagoyaki. Still hot from the pan.”     
  
Doumeki looked up at the boy, narrowing his eyes, “Oi!”    
  
“Stop calling me that!”    
  
“Are you sure you weren’t hit on the head?”    
  
“Do you want to eat OR DO YOU WANT ME TO SHOVE IT SOMEWHERE OTHER THAN YOUR MOUTH?”    
  
Both sounded tempting but Doumeki wasn’t about to say that out loud. He shoved the food in his mouth, chewing slowly and mentally prepared for his own death, in case Watanuki decided to poison him.    
  
He counted slowly in his head.    
  
-  
  
“Come with me,” he said and led them to his room, “Here, you left it here yesterday.” Watanuki handed him a broken arrow.    
  
“I left it for you.”    
  
“What? You think I’m your garbage disposal?” Watanuki barked but lacked of his usual enthusiasm.  
  
“No. But I want you to keep it as protection when I’m not around.”    
  
Watanuki sighed but said nothing in reply. He walked across the room, and then sat on the floor with his back against the wall— he was still holding the broken arrow, fingering the sharp edges absentmindedly. After a while, Doumeki followed the other boy, sitting next to him, alongside the wall, resting his elbows on his knees. He casted a sidelong glance towards the other boy who was staring thoughtfully at the floor.    
  
They were almost touching. But not quite.   
  
Watanuki was the first one to speak, “Tell me Doumeki, do you really—really feel like _that_ toward me?”   
  
“Yes.” He looked at the other boy, face open because this time he wouldn’t hide.    
  
“Why?”   
  
“Beats me. You’re loud and annoying.” He cringed mentally. He hadn’t meant to let that slip.    
  
“You—“     
  
“..but I don’t want you to disappear,” he added softly, leaning against the wall.    
  
“Oh.”   
  
“And I like your smell.”     
  
“Really?”     
  
“And you make good entertainment.”    
  
“You— you big imbecile! If I didn’t like you so much I would’ve—“    
  
He cut him off mid-rant, “Like me so much?” His heart threatened to leap out from his chest.    
  
Watanuki swiftly turned away, lowering his head, “Stupid Doumeki. Stupid, stupid Doumeki,” he grumbled, “This is entirely your fault! Probably Yuuko too! I bet she's got something to do with it. That’s it! I knew it!”     
  
“What do you mean?” he peered into the other boy’s face trying to get a glimpse of his expression.    
  
“Don’t sneak a look at my face like that! Jeez. Are you trying to give me a heart attack?”    
  
“Can you just explain it to me?”    
  
Watanuki sighed heavily, “The thing is— you know? Well, it’s not like I want it or anything, you know?”    
  
“I don’t.”    
  
He tried again, “Here’s the thing—” he let out a nervous chuckle, stalling.    
  
“Watanuki..”    
  
“I- I think I’m developing unhealthy feelings toward you.”    
  
A shocked silence fell over them. Milliseconds passed and Doumeki was staring dumbly at Watanuki; it took him a while for the words to register.    
  
“Really?” he asked the first intelligent thing he could manage.    
  
“BUT IT DOESN’T MEAN I AGREE WITH IT! So wipe that stupid look off your face already!”    
  
“Was that why you’ve been avoiding me?” he asked slowly.   
  
“Well yeah . . . because you’re Doumeki after all and you’ll gloat and you keep showing up— Oi, stop grinning like that damnit!”    
  
He pulled a straight face, unsuccessfully, “But you pushed me away.”    
  
“Of course I did! You jumped on me! Give a man a warning before you do something like that!” he wailed, waiving his hands around.  
  
Doumeki could understand that, “So you will let me kiss you if I don’t jump on you?”    
  
“I didn’t say that!”     
  
“So when can I kiss you?”    
  
“Don’t be so blunt and ask me that with a straight face!”    
  
“But you’ll get mad again—“   
  
“HOW INEPT CAN YOU GET? THAT WAS BEFORE DAMNIT! BEFORE!”   
  
“Do you have to be loud?”     
  
“Do you have to be stupid?”    
  
“So, can I kiss you now?”    
  
“Can you stop asking me that?”    
  
“Can you stop answering my questions with questions?”    
  
“Can you go and die?”   
  
“Don’t you want to kiss me?”    
  
“I—”   
  
“Because I really want to,” he said quietly, not exactly waiting for the answer, “I want to,” he mumbled as he leaned closer, reaching to cup Watanuki’s face, “Please don’t push me away.”     
  
When Doumeki crushed his lips on him, Watanuki did not push him away.   
  
-    
  
_They were two different pieces of something partial from the exact same puzzle._  
  
-  
  
Doumeki was definitely aroused.  
  
He pulled the boy closer to his body, as close as humanly possible, cautious with his every movement, like he was walking on shards of broken glass. Wary; he kissed the corner of Watanuki’s jaw then worked his way down to the curve of his neck, licking a spot there, taking his time then moving lower down, nuzzling the collarbone which was suddenly becoming his favorite part of the boy’s body.  
  
He loved the way Watanuki’s skin felt on his fingertips, but he liked it better on his lips, even better on his tongue. His hands worked slowly from the boy’s spine and lower, and then wrapped his arms around Watanuki as if he was an anchor. He was yearning for the boy, vicious desire coiled from every nerve in his body to the very end of his fingertips, spreading heat through his veins to the flesh between his legs.  
  
He twitched; Watanuki’s hair tickled his neck.  
  
The heat was increasing, almost _throbbing,_ and Doumeki wasn't quite sure where to go from there. He forced himself to halt, holding himself though it was so hard for him to do so. His hand was trembling, not with fear but with uncontrollable need; he wanted more but he was nearly too terrified to ask.  
  
“Doumeki?”  
  
He shifted, gripping both of Watanuki’s shoulders, eyes fixed on the other boy, “I want to touch you.”  
  
He felt completely exposed, he wanted more than touch.  
  
“I know.” Watanuki’s hand reached out to stroke his face in a light, uncertain touch.  
  
Doumeki moved suddenly, rougher than he intended, holding Watanuki's wrists, pinning his arms above his head. He bent down, nose almost touching the other's, breathing raggedly, “I want to do more than just kissing. You’re making it hard for me to control myself. I don’t want you to push me away or blame me—“  
  
“I know. It’s okay.” A slight smile formed on Watanuki’s lips, he sounded braver than he looked.  
  
“What do you mean?”  
  
“I'll try not to freak out this time okay?”  
  
“Are you sure?” he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding.   
  
Watanuki growled underneath him, “You’re making this hard for me too! Do you want a written invitation or something because you can forget—“   
  
And then Doumeki pounced on him hard, kissing him and swallowing his words— a clumsy, harsh, noses-colliding, lips-against-teeth-crushing but not-quite-kiss type of kiss.   
  
It was perfect. Whatever it was, it was insanely perfect.  
  
His hand strayed all over Watanuki’s body, under the shirt—over the stomach, grabbing, touching, feeling everything he could but he was greedy. He removed the shirt completely, both of their shirts, and the feeling of skin sliding against skin was ecstasy. His hand crept lower and the boy moaned, it went lower still until he cupped the boy’s erection, smirking slightly as he felt the cock hardening in the palm of his hand.  
  
He removed Watanuki pants roughly, resulting with a string of curses from the other boy. Every stitch of clothing was a distraction, an annoyance. He grunted as he fumbled with his jeans; only satisfied when both of them were completely bared.  
  
Then he paused. He stared at Watanuki's naked from, drinking in the sight slowly. He had been imagining this for some time and he wanted to imprint every detail of it in his mind.   
  
“Stop staring at me, idiot.” Watanuki said, trying to cover himself under his gaze.   
  
“Oh. Yes- but you’re—“ he stumbled for words, he wanted to say something corny like beautiful or hot but that would only cause the other boy’s rage, “. . . tasty.”   
  
“Bastard.”   
  
Watanuki pulled him down, surprising him in a very pleasant way and crushed their lips together. He groaned and his breath quickened, he growled deep in his throat before pulling away from the kiss and lowering his mouth to his neck, licking and sucking, secretly marking the pale skin, and dipped lower again until he found a nipple.   
  
Watanuki’s shrill moan filled the room.    
  
He flicked his tongue over the nipple again and again just to hear the boy’s moan. It was almost like a game and he liked this game so very much.    
  
“Doumeki . . .” he pleaded through half-lidded eyes.   
  
His hand raked Doumeki’s hair roughly. He was being pulled upwards, Watanuki was surprisingly strong; they were lying down as one, with him on top of Watanuki, body aligned perfectly, flesh against flesh, erection against erection. Doumeki’s heart was thumping chaotically on his chest.   
  
It was madness.    
  
“We’re going to do this.” He breathed heavily, grinding his hips downwards, “We’re really going to do this," he repeated incoherently, his mind clouded with need.   
  
Watanuki arched his body, thrusting against him in a perfect increasing momentum; he was gasping, moaning, clawing his hands on Doumeki’s back, and Doumeki felt like he was about to break. The friction on his groin was driving him to the edge. He was fully aware that he wouldn’t be able to hold himself any longer, but he didn’t want to end it like this. No yet. He wanted more.   
  
“Touch me here,” he said thickly, as he guided Watanuki's hand to his cock.   
  
\-   
  
_“Kimihiro…!”_  
  
\-   
  
“Kimihiro”   
  
“Don’t call me like that!”   
  
“Why not? It’s your name.”   
  
“You make it sound intimate!”   
  
“I thought we are more than intimate by now,” he said, trying hard not to leer at the other boy.   
  
“Pervert,” Watanuki sputtered and a faint blush formed on his cheeks.   
  
Doumeki snorted then threw his sight into the darkness beyond; it was almost midnight. They had finished their tea sometime ago, and it was rather cold but Doumeki didn’t feel the need to move from his spot.    
  
His eyes drifted to their drained cups then to the other boy next to him.  
  
They were sitting on Doumeki’s porch again; listening to the quiet sound of the wind like before-- like nothing had changed, like nothing had happened between them.     
  
But they were both fully aware that something had shifted, something had come completely undone. Something was growing between them.   
  
And it felt like all the pieces had fit perfectly into the puzzle.  
  
“So, what did Yuuko say?” he asked after a while.   
  
“She called me a child.” Watanuki grimaced.  
  
“You were acting like one,” he felt it was extremely necessary to harass the boy.  
  
“Shut up and—” Watanuki started to yell then took a deep breath, calming himself, “But she was right though. Whether I was dreaming or not, I chose my own path because this is my life. And sometimes when you wish hard enough, things might come true.”   
  
“Do you know what you wish for?”   
  
He sighed dramatically, “I think I do but I’m not going to tell you.” Then he yawned loudly, “Oi Doumeki, it’s late.”  
  
“You can stay the night if you want,” he said, sounding huskier than he intended to.  
  
Watanuki paused, a moment too long before he replied, “All right.”   
  
Doumeki smiled implausibly wide.   
  
\--   
  
**Afterwards**  
  
“Oi.”    
  
“What? And stop calling me that! Jeez.”    
  
“You should move in with me at the temple.”    
  
“Why?”    
  
“So you can cook breakfast, lunch and dinner for me -“    
  
“YOU—you selfish jerk!”    
  
“—and we can have sex every day.”    
  
“WHAT THE HELL!! You’re incorrigible. I don’t even know why I put up with you.”    
  
“Because I’m good in bed.”   
  
“Would you please go and die now?”    
  
-


End file.
